


...to catch a thief

by moth2fic



Category: The Professionals
Genre: Case Fic, M/M, Mediaeval AU, Minor Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-11
Updated: 2017-11-11
Packaged: 2019-01-31 22:57:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12691920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moth2fic/pseuds/moth2fic
Summary: A short story set in the world of Rae and Beau, a few weeks after the events of Journey to the Summer Country (by myself and co-author Fictionwriter). This tale looks at a typical incident in life at Cowley’s castle.





	...to catch a thief

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sw33n3y](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sw33n3y/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Journey to the Summer Country](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12173052) by [Fictionwriter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fictionwriter/pseuds/Fictionwriter), [moth2fic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/moth2fic/pseuds/moth2fic). 



> This is a gift for sw33n3y as my contribution to the pay-it-forward meme we participated in on DW/LJ. I know, sw33n3y, you didn't want me to post anything half way round the world by snail-mail, and I know you like this 'verse. So enjoy!
> 
> Many thanks are due to Fictionwriter for her usual rapid and competent beta work. 
> 
> The art/banner is by me, using a combination of Photoshop, Pixlr, Paint and my camera (for the woods).

 

Rae smiled ruefully as he watched the villagers depart. Sitting in judgement over local disagreements was something he had had to do when Giles was on crusade, but he didn't envy his brother-in-law the task. Sometimes he felt jealous of Giles' position as a Norman lord, but mostly he enjoyed his status as castellan, despite his Anglo-Saxon background, and of course, always, he enjoyed his relationship with Beau. 

Winterton Cowley had been a busy little community even before Giles chose to build his castle here. Now it was positively thriving, with a new flour mill to be closer than the one at Cowley Underwold, a new saw mill and a church that was being rebuilt in the Norman style with soaring arches decorated to the glory of God. Rae hoped the villagers appreciated their good fortune and had not brought any serious problems to their Norman overlord. At the same time he hoped there hadn't been too many petty neighbours' quarrels; after the first one or two those were quite hard to stomach. 

The villagers were Saxons, of course, but they liked and respected their Norman overlord. Giles was just, and his justice was tempered with kindness. Of course, it helped that everybody loved Aelfware. 

As the villagers departed, Beau and his small troop of trainees arrived fresh from the practice field outside the walls. They looked hot and sweaty despite the chill December day and Beau grinned as they passed and scattered, some to sluice off in the horse trough and some to make a belated appearance at their posts as grooms, cooks, and other castle staff. Beau stopped.

"They're shaping up well," he told his lover. "Any more rebels in the valley will turn tail before they even think of attacking here. All the men are proficient with staffs and some of the stable lads are no now expert with bows. A few of the youngsters are good enough with the wooden swords that I'll try them with real ones soon. Blunt, of course," he added, with another grin. "No point in tempting fate."

Rae grinned back. He was glad of the Frenchman's dedication to training the men as a defence force for the little community, and he looked forward to his own private training sessions on the battlements. He thought he might soon rival Beau with the quarterstaff. 

"You've a way of causing men to be enthusiastic about what they do," he said, knowing Beau would understand the double meaning of his words.

Beau laughed, and their banter would have continued but Sebbi ran from the great hall with a summons for Rae.

"Sir Giles is in quite a temper," the lad said. "He needs you to attend him straight away."

So Rae, perforce, abandoned Beau and headed for the hall.

 

 

"Raedwolf." Giles sounded relieved that Rae had arrived so promptly. "I've had a disturbing report and accusation this morning and I need your help in the matter." He sounded hesitant, which was unusual for him, and his face was creased with anxiety.

"I'm at your service, as you always know," said Rae. What could have worried the man so badly? A Norman knight who had the ear of the king and had seen crusader action was hardly prone to irrational fears. 

"You know Piers who farms just outside the village? He tells me his stores have been raided and as if that wasn't enough he accuses Stepan of using witchcraft to steal his stock and curse what's left. I don't think I altogether believe in witchcraft, but the villagers do, and this could escalate into something quite ugly. We can't afford that, not in winter when supplies are low. Besides, we need to discover who or what is at the bottom of the thefts."

"Especially since most of Piers' crops are for us," Rae agreed. Piers grew fruit which he stored or dried for the winter, and hops, for the castle brewery. Barley, too, that would be used for beer. 

"So I need you to investigate," said Giles. "And to do your best to stamp out any suggestion of black magic. I don't believe there's any involved, let alone that Stepan would practise it." Stepan was a loner, a man who kept himself very much to himself and for that reason was perhaps vulnerable to such accusations as had been levelled this morning, but he was harmless, a craftsman who made simple furniture, and it would be a tragedy if his reserved character led to his injury or death at the hands of an angry mob of ignorant peasants. 

"I'll go today," Rae assured Giles. "I'll see what's gone and work out how, and hopefully be better able to assess who was responsible. I'll tell anyone I see that this is a simple case of theft. I hope I'm right," he finished. Like Giles, he was not a firm believer in witchcraft but he knew there were things in the world he did not understand, and he hoped that this theft would not turn out to be one of them.

 

 

Beau joined him on the short ride to the village. Star and Tonnerre needed the exercise and Beau was not doing anything particular with the day now that the training session was over. Sight followed them, too. Since Henry had returned to Oxford the hound had been restless, and clearly welcomed what might be an adventure. Rae would speak to the peasants in their own Saxon tongue, and Beau was not yet proficient but thought he could understand enough to know what was going on. 

Piers' farmstead was small but prosperous. The man's living accommodation was over the barn that housed his milch cow and his chickens. Next to that was an outhouse that stored the crops until they were needed at the castle or bought by others. The farm belonged to the castle, but Piers had a great deal of freedom in how he managed it. Giles thought that men trusted with choice and responsibility gave better profits to their overlords, and Rae approved of that thought. Yet now here was their trusted farmer with an allegation that could set the community by its ears and cause untold damage. He sighed and hoped the initial damage to the stored goods was not too great. 

Piers seemed glad to know Sir Giles had taken his story seriously, and was anxious to show Rae and Beau the site of the theft once they had hitched their horses to the rail outside the main house. 

"I had racks of winter apples," he told them, as he led the way to the outbuilding. 

The stores were a mess. Wooden racks were broken, there were a few apples scattered on the earth floor, a sack of barley was gaping, half empty, and the door to the room was half off its hinges. 

"Sir Giles said you spoke of witchcraft," said Rae. "This is hardly the work of someone practising dark arts. It's common theft, or perhaps not so common because it's clumsy and easily seen."

"Ah well," said Piers. "I reckons they was disturbed, likely. They got away with a lot of stuff, any road. And I say it's that Stepan. He's a strange one, and he's never liked me. I don't think he wanted the apples or the grain, just to spite me somehow." He looked satisfied with his explanation and Rae and Beau both rolled their eyes in disbelief. Beau was looking at the way the floor was gouged as if something had been dragged, and Rae was making a mental note of what appeared to have been taken, but neither were convinced by the witchcraft story. 

"We'll talk to him," Rae promised, "but I don't think he's your culprit. However, we'll find out who is, and you can be sure they'll pay for their misdeeds."

"And what about what I owes the castle?" There was a whining note in Piers' voice that Rae found annoying but he answered calmly enough. 

"I'll see to it that you don't suffer. The loss can't have been self-inflicted. You wouldn't damage your own storehouse just to avoid sending us a few apples. I'll let you know how our enquiries go but don't worry about your debt to the castle."

Piers looked relieved, and Rae beckoned Beau, heading for Star and Tonnerre who were growing impatient.

 

 

Stephan was carving a footboard for a child's truckle bed when they arrived at his house, which was also his workshop. It was a lovely piece of craft, almost too good for a peasant child, for whom it was probably intended. Stepan took pride in his work, even his cheaper creations. He listened to the accusations that Rae levelled at him and sighed. 

"You're welcome to look for apples and barley," he said. "You won't find any, but I think you know that already. As for witchcraft, that's not something I dabble in and I think you know that too?" His voice rose in a question and Rae nodded. 

"We have to ask," he told the man. "Just as we have to search your house. But you're right; I don't expect to find anything. I'll try to deflect rumours of witchcraft, Stepan, but it would be easier if we had the real villain in our sights. Stop that!! The last words were directed at Sight, who had found a chunk of wood, probably intended for some of Stepan's workmanship, and was chewing with every evidence of delight.

Stepan frowned. "I can't think who'd want to rob Piers," he said. "There's a newcomer in the village who's someone I don't know well. But he's also someone I wouldn't trust as far as I could see him. I don't want to accuse some other innocent but I can't help thinking he might know more. His name's Barclay and he's staying with Aethelflaed. Says he's her cousin and she doesn't contradict him." 

 

 

It could be nothing. It could be the effort of the accused to find someone else to blame. But they had to follow up every lead and Rae headed for Aethelflaed's house, a tiny cottage that faced the village green. On the way they passed Father Simon, just leaving the church, and Rae told him what they were doing.

"I agree with Sir Giles," said the priest, frowning. "There's no witchcraft in this village. But I don't think you'll get much joy out of Barclay. He's a stranger to the village, yes, but he's staying with his cousin, and even if he's a thief, which we can't know, he's unlikely to foul his own nest for the sake of a few apples. And yes, he's really her cousin. I know some of the family and he's certainly related. He's a stranger here but not to the area in general."

When they reached Aethelflaed's house, Father Simon along with them, Rae gasped. The man sitting on the bench just inside the open door was one of Alberic's group, the men who had attacked them on their way home from the summer country. Alberic and Edgar had presumably left the area, as he had suggested, but this man was sitting bold as brass in Winterton Cowley. There was a scar on his neck, and Sight was growling softly. 

The man flinched when he saw the hound, and made to get up but Beau was quick and had him pinned against the wall. 

"First of all, why are you still here?" Rae asked. "And secondly, what do you know about a theft at Piers' farm? We're not accusing you - yet - but we have been led to believe you might have information for us. Have you?"

"Speak up, fellow," said Beau, in French, as his prisoner remained silent. "Or we'll let Sight have a second taste."

The man clearly understood the Norman command and threat. He couldn't talk fast enough. He had begged his cousin to shelter him while his wounds healed. He had never meant to attack the castellan and the knight. Or the monk. Or the boy. He was just repaying a debt he owed to Alberic. He knew nothing about Piers' farm. Or about any thieves in the area. He swore on the holy cross, on his mother's soul, on anything they wanted to hear. 

"You know," remarked Father Simon," I think he's telling the truth." 

"All the same," said Rae, "I would hear what his views are on the theft. We already know he's a thief himself or at least part of a gang of thieves, and he could have valuable insights into whatever is going on here."

The man gabbled again, somewhat incoherently this time, and Sight had to be restrained. 

By this time, Aethelflaed was part of the group in the doorway, protesting that whilst she knew her cousin was a ne'er-do-well she was sure he would not be robbing her neighbours. She glared at him as she said this, and he shrank even further into himself if that was possible. Aethelflaed, it seemed, was not a good person to cross. 

In the end, they all trailed back to the farm, Rae leading their horses, Beau leading Barclay, with Sight in close attendance, and Father Simon and Aethelflaed following out of some sense of curiosity or responsibility. Stephan saw them as they passed his house, and he joined them too. So it was a small crowd that gathered at Piers' storehouse, with Piers scratching his head at the invasion and pointing to the damage with an air of someone who was going to have satisfaction from somebody, no matter who was the guilty party. 

"I'll tell you what I think," said Barclay, slowly. "But you're not going to like it and you might not believe me."

"So long as it isn't more witchcraft," said Rae, impatiently. "What is it, man?"

"Look at the damage," he said. "And look at what's missing. This isn't the work of a human thief..."

"I knew it! Demons and witches and things that go bump in the night!" Rae was feeling angry as he interrupted, but Barclay continued.

"...It do have all the marks of an animal. When we was in the woods, Alberic and his friends, and me, we saw signs of wild boar. A hungry boar will want apples and grain, and a smart boar will find its way into any storehouse. A boar will do that kind of damage. Not a demon in sight, your honours."

They all stared at him.

"You could be right," said Rae. "We haven't heard of any boar sightings recently but nor have we had occasion to hunt in the woods this side of the village. Sir Giles has kept to the other side, the forest where he has royal permission to hunt deer. Piers, have you seen any sign of boar?"

"Not signs, exactly, but I've had some broken hurdles around the plot where I tethers my cow. I thought it were village children, which annoyed me, no more than that, but maybe..."

He looked towards the woods, which came quite close to the farm. The others looked too. 

"We should plan a hunt," said Rae, noticing that Beau looked pleased at the idea. "If there are boar in those woods we need to clear them out, and the pork would be welcome at Yuletide. It seems as likely an explanation for your losses as any," he added, directing his words to the farmer. "And unless we come up with nothing, keep your rumours of witchcraft to yourself, do you hear?"

Piers nodded, but scowled at Stepan, who simply shrugged and looked away. 

 

 

They took Barclay back to the castle with them. Rae was not pleased that the man had taken shelter in Winterton Cowley despite their advice and their leniency, and he was not gentle with their prisoner. They left him cooling his heels in one of the empty stalls in the stables, guarded by Sight and by Yffi, who, although small, was fierce, and was one of Beau's most enthusiastic trainees. He sat watching the prisoner, his staff held loosely across his knees but his hands ready to grab and swing if it became necessary. Rae didn't think it would. Barclay seemed sufficiently cowed, and Sight alone could probably have kept him from escaping. 

Giles was delighted to hear that witchcraft was unlikely to be at the root of the troubles. He was also delighted at the idea of a hunt, and started to make plans immediately. The Normans in his keep would welcome the diversion, the meat would be welcome in the kitchens, and they would be doing the village a service. It was altogether a very positive outcome. 

"We're going to hunt the boar," Rae told Barclay. "And you, since you already know roughly where you saw the signs, are going to be in the advance party. In fact, you can go ahead of all of us, and find this creature."

"You can't make me do that," the man cried, real fear in his voice.

Beau raised an eyebrow. "We not only can, we will," he said. 

"You should have fled when we told you to, you know," said Rae. "As it is, you have a chance to make up for what you did that day. You're lucky to be alive, you know, and you'll pay for that luck by making this a successful hunt for us. If you lead us to the boar, Sir Giles will pardon you for the attack on his son. If you can't find it, I suggest you run far and fast."

 

 

The woods, with their skeletal winter trees, were almost eerie in the dawn light. Oak, elm, beech and sycamore had all lost their leaves and raised bare arms to the grey sky. They were surrounded by vibrant evergreens, holly and pine, and some of the trunks of the dormant trees were wrapped in clinging ivy. The frost that had started to melt in the farmland was keeping a tighter grip here and would probably last all day. Shadows flickered as the growing sunlight peered between the upper branches. Everything was green and silver, silent but alive. 

The men, their breath misting in the air, were quiet. No sense alerting the prey to their hunt unnecessarily. The Normans had ridden to the edge of Piers' land then tethered their horses. Horses would be a liability in the woods. The Saxons had walked, of course, apart from Rae, who rode Star as usual. Mathieu and Offa might share gate guard duties as equals but Mathieu would ride where Offa walked. Rae was the only one who straddled both worlds. 

They had set out early in the hope of surprising the boar at an hour when they might be rooting for beechnuts or acorns, before retiring to sleep during the day. They were all experienced huntsmen, Normans and Saxons alike. Even Yffi had spent time hunting with his family and friends. Gaiallard and Irminric had left their bows behind, along with the rest of their team of archers. Arrows were too easily deflected by branches in the woods, and it could take too long to aim and fire. Everyone carried knives or spears. Giles, Mathieu and Beau had long-swords. Rae preferred his shorter sword but hoped he would not be called upon to use it. Hunting had never appealed to him but he kept his own counsel about that. 

Sight was not with them. Ash, Giles' great boar-hound, followed his master's horse, and Seeker, the hunting dog, bigger and more solid than Sight but less majestic than Ash, trailed a little behind, looking to Rae for instruction from time to time. Aelfware had refused to risk Sight on a hunt of this kind and indeed the hound was not bred for woodland fighting but rather for speed over open land.

Mathieu, their giant smith, held Barclay in front of him on his horse, Giles' war charger, Soldat. He alone had ridden to the edge of the wood and would dismount presently and hand his horse over to Yffi who was ready and waiting. The Saxon thief had had little choice other than to accompany them. Giles might be kind, but the attack on Henry had not been truly avenged, and Barclay could well find himself paying for his whole group's misdeeds if he didn't find the boar for the hunting party.

"Do you think he'll truly look for the signs?" Beau spoke quietly to Rae as Mathieu dumped Barclay roughly on the ground and Giles gestured to the woods.

"I think so. He might try to run, but I think he knows this could as easily turn into a manhunt as a boar-hunt." Rae grimaced. Perhaps they should never have let the man go in the first place but what was done was done, and at least he had altered their way of thinking about the theft so that the rumour of witchcraft was no longer a threat to the village. 

"I hope he finds something. We could all do with a day of good sport." Beau's tone was gleeful and Rae stared at him. 

"Speak for yourself," he said.

Beau laughed. "I do. I gather hunting is not to your taste. Though there are other sports..." 

He never finished the sentence. Their reluctant scout had disappeared among the trees, swallowed by the green of holly and ivy, and then there was a crashing noise. Before they could breathe again, a huge boar came crashing out of the woods, grunting with fury.

It was an enormous tusker, very obviously male and equally obviously angry at being disturbed. Sows were dangerous in the breeding season but this was the beginning of winter and any sows would be deep in the woods, almost-grown piglets around them. They would need to rout them out later or the place would be infested with the creatures. 

The men fanned out into a semi-circle so that the boar had to turn its head from side to side to keep them all in its sights. The tusks gleamed in a ray of sunshine, and Rae could see the bristles on the animal's head outlined against the light.

Cearl and Eadwin moved forward cautiously, meaning to drive the beast towards the waiting spears. Giles had his sword ready, as did Beau, and Mathieu had his drawn, too. 

Everything seemed to be going according to plan then the plan, as plans do, went awry. 

Barclay came running back out of the trees and the men were momentarily distracted. The boar took advantage of their lack of focus and charged. It headed for Giles, who held steady with his sword but Beau shouted and the beast turned its small but vicious eyes on him. Rae pushed him out of the way but he fell against Mathieu who in turn toppled to the ground. He had only just dismounted and the boar, too late to alter its course, found itself faced with Yffi, and the horse. The tusks made short work of both boy and horse before anyone could move and the air filled with screams and spattering blood.

The boar withdrew its now gory tusks and shook itself, ready to look for more victims. But Giles was faster, and stepped forward with a kind of dancing motion. His sword pierced the animal's throat deeply and for good measure Beau and Maugre plunged their weapons into its sides. A badly wounded boar was even more dangerous than a merely angry one and nobody wanted to risk more destruction. 

Rae turned aside, hoping he would not shame himself by vomiting. When he looked up again, he saw a sober and quiet hunting party getting ready to go home.

 

 

By the time they had tied the boar's feet ready to carry on a pole cut for the purpose from one of the nearest trees, and lifted Yffi's body onto Tonnerre, Barclay was nowhere to be seen. 

"He must have realised Giles would blame him," said Rae.

"Yes, I think he ran while he could," said Beau. "I don't think we'll be seeing him again." 

"And yet he wasn't entirely responsible," said Rae. "I should not have suggested using him as a tracker or scout. I might have known he would be less than reliable."

"Don't start feeling guilty," Beau told him firmly. "You did the best you could with imperfect instruments. As well blame Piers, with his tales of witchcraft, or even Stepan, for attracting such a stupid accusation. It was Giles' hunt, in the end."

"And he ended it very well," said Rae. "We'll need to come out again to burn Soldat's body - he was a brave beast and doesn't deserve to be left for carrion eaters."

"I remember him from our crusade," said Beau, sadness colouring his voice. "And meanwhile, since Tonnerre has been commandeered as a beast of burden, I suppose I should join the foot party."

"Star can carry us both," said Rae, and Beau grinned, vaulting lightly up behind him. And if he held Rae's waist a little more tightly than necessary, they were both sure nobody would notice.

 

 

It was almost Christmas and Giles planned a feast for the darkest day, one that the villagers were invited to, and one at which the boar would be the guest of honour. 

There was a week in which the carcase could be suitably hung so that the meat would be tender, and Cearl could flay the hide which would, with a little care, make useful leather. The tusks would decorate the table that would hold the roasted meat, and both Warren and Ansell would be exhausted with efforts to provide sufficient accompanying bread and ale. Josclyn was overseeing the erection of an enormous spit in the courtyard. 

Ash and Seeker had no doubt told Sight all about the hunt and its outcome and the stables were mourning the loss of Soldat. Of Barclay, there was no sign.

They buried Yffi in the little castle graveyard just outside the walls, the one that until now was just a plot waiting for graves. Eadwin dug the hole, Josclyn made the coffin, and they all threw clods on top so that it was covered. Eadwin would fill the grave in later and there would be a small wooden cross. Father Simon prayed and Giles said a few words about the lad's keen spirit. Beau followed with a speech about how well Yffi had taken to his training, and how sorry he was to lose such a promising fighter. 

But life went on. There would always, Rae reflected, be losses and small tragedies. Their world was in many ways a cruel one, but it had its compensations.

One of the compensations joined him on the way back through the great gate. 

"Well, that's over," said Beau. "I think we gave him a good send-off and he wouldn't have wanted us to mourn unduly. I hope his parents understood what I said and felt that we cared."

"I should think they would understand most of it," said Rae. He shook himself, symbolically shaking off the sadness that had gripped them. "And at least," he continued, "nobody can blame witchcraft. Just an enraged animal, a frightened man, and a collection of events."

"I'm glad for everyone's sake that the witchcraft has been disproved," said Beau. "Though I suppose it could still have been witchcraft that brought the boar there in the first place."

"Don't even go there," said Rae. "Witchcraft is not something I want to hear about at any time."

"And yet," said Beau, smiling, "there's witchcraft afoot here in plenty, particularly in our chamber."

"Don't joke," said Rae. It would be bad enough to have people accuse them of being lovers, let alone adding a charge of witchcraft. Of course, the first was true and the second wasn't but when had that ever swayed public opinion?

"I wasn't joking." Beau smiled. "Not really, though perhaps I shouldn't call it witchcraft. Just magic, then. And yes, I've seen enough on my travels to the east to know there are things in the world beyond our understanding. Some of them are bad, but some of them are very good indeed."

When Rae looked half annoyed and half amused, he went on, "And there's a thief, too, right here in Winterton Cowley, a really competent one, who has stolen my heart."

And with that they entered the courtyard and went about their day.


End file.
